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Matthew Putorti writes from SUDAN
I had never been more nervous and unsure than when the
plane landed in Khartoum, Sudan that October night. It was as if I was
entering some forbidden, dangerous land – a place only known because of
its tragedies: war, famine, genocide. I did not say much as we boarded the
bus to take us to the terminal. Inside the airport, my ears still plugged from
the plane ride, I sat quietly trying to inconspicuously look around at this new
place while I waited for my visa to be processed.
plane landed in Khartoum, Sudan that October night. It was as if I was
entering some forbidden, dangerous land – a place only known because of
its tragedies: war, famine, genocide. I did not say much as we boarded the
bus to take us to the terminal. Inside the airport, my ears still plugged from
the plane ride, I sat quietly trying to inconspicuously look around at this new
place while I waited for my visa to be processed.
At least, though, I was with a friend (and fellow volunteer missioner), Frank
So from Portland, Oregon. We were arriving from Kigali, Rwanda where we
had just completed the first leg of volunteer service with VIDES (Volunteers
International for Development Education and Service), an NGO
(Non-Government Organization) operated by the Daughters of Mary Help of
Christians (Salesian Sisters), a Catholic order.
So from Portland, Oregon. We were arriving from Kigali, Rwanda where we
had just completed the first leg of volunteer service with VIDES (Volunteers
International for Development Education and Service), an NGO
(Non-Government Organization) operated by the Daughters of Mary Help of
Christians (Salesian Sisters), a Catholic order.
I signed up for a year of service with VIDES after having completed my
undergraduate degree. The decision to do so was something I
contemplated for a long time – and was influenced by several factors. First
and foremost, I was inspired by my parents whose long involvement with
civic organizations helped shape my personal development and moral
system. This metaphysical respect of humanity was codified and
experienced during my time at Boston College where the Jesuit ideal of
“men and women for others” brought me to Mozambique, El Salvador and
Appalachia – and simultaneously to a better understanding of social justice
and solidarity. Finally, with faith's challenge to put love into action, I see a
responsibility to work for the betterment of everyone. Choosing to do work
internationally does not deny that poverty exists in the US; rather it
highlights that the poverty in many places of the underdeveloped world is
more entrenched and widespread, while infrastructure and good
governance do not exist to bring people out of poverty.
undergraduate degree. The decision to do so was something I
contemplated for a long time – and was influenced by several factors. First
and foremost, I was inspired by my parents whose long involvement with
civic organizations helped shape my personal development and moral
system. This metaphysical respect of humanity was codified and
experienced during my time at Boston College where the Jesuit ideal of
“men and women for others” brought me to Mozambique, El Salvador and
Appalachia – and simultaneously to a better understanding of social justice
and solidarity. Finally, with faith's challenge to put love into action, I see a
responsibility to work for the betterment of everyone. Choosing to do work
internationally does not deny that poverty exists in the US; rather it
highlights that the poverty in many places of the underdeveloped world is
more entrenched and widespread, while infrastructure and good
governance do not exist to bring people out of poverty.
My first four weeks abroad were spent in Rwanda, the site a not-too-distant
genocide that left nearly 800,000 people dead during a terrifying 100 day
period in 1994. But it has moved toward stability and this is quite a feat:
reconciliation to the point of progress in only twelve years.
genocide that left nearly 800,000 people dead during a terrifying 100 day
period in 1994. But it has moved toward stability and this is quite a feat:
reconciliation to the point of progress in only twelve years.
I was volunteering at a primary school and orphanage for girls aged three to
eighteen. My tasks, like washing dishes, were fairly menial, yet humbling and
gave me plenty of time to spend with the orphans whose love seemed to radiate
from their beings. More than anything, they wanted only to be loved in return,
to be paid attention to and affirmed, that – yes! – they have self-worth.
eighteen. My tasks, like washing dishes, were fairly menial, yet humbling and
gave me plenty of time to spend with the orphans whose love seemed to radiate
from their beings. More than anything, they wanted only to be loved in return,
to be paid attention to and affirmed, that – yes! – they have self-worth.
It was also in Rwanda that Frank and I founded the Banana Fund, a fundraising
effort with the original aim of supplementing the diet of the school children and
orphans with healthy alternatives.
It was difficult leaving the orphans after only a month, laden with a guilt that I
was propagating a cycle of people coming into their lives then leaving shortly
thereafter, but they understood I had to move onto a new challenge – and that
they would forever remain in my heart. This new challenge was Sudan, an
interesting juxtaposition to Rwanda because many claim a genocide is currently
taking place here. It is also in Sudan that the Banana Fund took on a new
dimension.
In Sudan I continue volunteering with the Salesians, but this time in a far
different setting: at a technical training school for young men in the city of El
Obeid, a school that has for the past three years educated and boarded an
increasing number of IDPs (internally displaced persons) from Sudan's troubled
Darfur region, as well as young men from the Nuba Mountains and street
children. Just before my arrival, the school had taken in 178 young men from
Darfur for the 2006-2007 academic year.
Sudan, the largest country in Africa, has a turbulent past, a troubled present
and an uncertain future. For nearly forty years preceding the signing of peace
agreements in 2005, there was a gruesome civil war between the Muslim North
and Christian and Animist South that left nearly 2 million people dead. This
dramatic event was coupled by crippling famines in the 1980s and 1990s.
From that conflict, Sudan moved to another in 2003 between the Khartoum
government and its Darfur provinces. There, the fighting continues and is
presently entering its fifth year. This conflict is believed to have taken on an
ethnic tone which pits Arabs against Africans – and is the foundation from which
many international observers have declared that a genocide is being committed
against the Africans. The violence in Darfur is very complex and a superficial
analysis would only trivialize it. Suffice it to say that since 2003, estimates put
the death toll at 200,000, with another 3 million who have fled their homes and
become either IDPs or refugees in neighboring Chad, Uganda and the Central
African Republic. Residents are subject to attacks by the Janjaweed, or Arab
militia on camel back, widely believed to be supplied and supported by the
Khartoum government. Both the rebels and the government have been
implicated in attacks and have propagated the violence, but the government of
Sudan has consistently rejected international humanitarian intervention by the
United Nations on sovereignty grounds.
In fact, this issue of sovereignty and the violence in Darfur was the subject of
my senior thesis at Boston College – and has recently taken on an entirely new
dimension as I have heard first-hand accounts of what has happened in Darfur.
One year ago, sitting in the library researching this subject, I never would have
imagined that today I would be sitting in Sudan asking young men from Darfur
what has happened to them over the past four years. Never could I have
imagined, either, this globalized society in which we live - one that proclaims the
dignity and rights of every person – permitting such atrocities from occurring,
going virtually unnoticed.
Several boys have told me how, when fleeing their village from attacks, they
were separated from their parents and have not seen them since, unsure if they
are alive or dead. Another explained how he was wrongly accused of being a
rebel solider, imprisoned for three days, tied up, beaten and tortured in an
attempt to extract a confession. Almost everyone has had to flee their homes
after the Janjaweed came to their villages, stole all their possessions and
livestock, burned down their houses, killed their relatives and chased them to
the nearest IDP camp. Many have scars from being grazed by bullets or hit by
shrapnel from bombs. Everyone tells me life was good before; they were self-
sufficient and happy. Now they live in fear, hiding the emotional and physical
scars that come from living in a war-zone.
The bearers of these stories, young men from Nyala, South Darfur, are
educated in the technical school where I currently reside. The idea behind the
Darfur program is that it, if only for a year, removes them from what its director,
Fr. Vincent Donati (an eighty year old Italian missionary dedicated to the
service of humanity and love) refers to as the prisons of the IDP camps. It
provides them with security and the opportunity to gain a technical skill, which
increases their chances of one day finding sustainable employment. It is a
program which combines both immediate relief and long-term development.
My time here has made me reflect about a number of aspects of life: Given what
happened in Rwanda in 1994, why hasn't the international community taken the
steps necessary to stop what has been happening in Darfur for over four
years? What is the actual role of international NGOs and why hasn't more
progress been made on the African continent if so much money and manpower
is being devoted to development work? What are we, as individual US citizens,
obligated to do in the face of such violence and poverty – both international
poverty and the domestic poverty that Hurricane Katrina brought to the
forefront?
What I do know is that Sudan will be my home for the next four months. I teach
one English class a day to the young men from Darfur and Nuba Mountains.
The rest of the day I spend coordinating the administration of the three
boarding houses – paying the bills, purchasing food, making sure sick students
are taken to the hospital, taking care of the needs of the young men. One
might say I am a pseudo-accountant and general problem solver. Together,
Frank and I are also writing grants and pursuing other fundraising efforts to
secure the monies necessary for the continuation, and possible expansion, of
the Darfur program into next year. Unfortunately, the violence in Darfur shows
no signs of stopping and thus the need for the program continues.
That is where the Banana Fund takes on its modified mission. Because of the
generosity shown during the initial campaign, and because of the great needs
Frank and I continue to witness in both Rwanda and Sudan, we have expanded
its purpose to support the works of the Salesians in both places. Since its
founding, we have been able to supplement the diets of the children in Kigali for
one year, purchase English books for classes in El Obeid and build a
playground for children in Khartoum.
In the future, and with continued support, we would like to be able to provide
solar panels for hot water to the orphans in Rwanda. Additionally, we would like
to bring as many young men from Darfur to the technical school next year (the
cost for boarding and educating one boy for one year is about $1,000). Most
probably, we will find many other needs, but we will do what we can with what we
have. Donations to the Banana Fund can be made online donating through
PayPal and enter Banana Fund in the “Message to Seller” or by sending a
check made out to VIDES with "Banana Fund" in the subject line to: Sister
MaryGloria Mar, 5630 W. Commerce Street, San Antonio, TX 78237 USA.
VIDES USA is a 501 (c) (3) public organization where donations can be tax
deductible.
I am very much looking forward to the remainder of this experience and I am far
less nervous and unsure than I was five months ago. I try to be as present as
possible, yet remain excited about returning to the US. I have a newfound
appreciation for the rights and liberties afforded to us as US citizens, ones that
ensure our security and progress. I have also come to realize how much my
friends and family are blessings in my life. I am inspired by this all – and now
also by the people of Rwanda and Sudan.
effort with the original aim of supplementing the diet of the school children and
orphans with healthy alternatives.
It was difficult leaving the orphans after only a month, laden with a guilt that I
was propagating a cycle of people coming into their lives then leaving shortly
thereafter, but they understood I had to move onto a new challenge – and that
they would forever remain in my heart. This new challenge was Sudan, an
interesting juxtaposition to Rwanda because many claim a genocide is currently
taking place here. It is also in Sudan that the Banana Fund took on a new
dimension.
In Sudan I continue volunteering with the Salesians, but this time in a far
different setting: at a technical training school for young men in the city of El
Obeid, a school that has for the past three years educated and boarded an
increasing number of IDPs (internally displaced persons) from Sudan's troubled
Darfur region, as well as young men from the Nuba Mountains and street
children. Just before my arrival, the school had taken in 178 young men from
Darfur for the 2006-2007 academic year.
Sudan, the largest country in Africa, has a turbulent past, a troubled present
and an uncertain future. For nearly forty years preceding the signing of peace
agreements in 2005, there was a gruesome civil war between the Muslim North
and Christian and Animist South that left nearly 2 million people dead. This
dramatic event was coupled by crippling famines in the 1980s and 1990s.
From that conflict, Sudan moved to another in 2003 between the Khartoum
government and its Darfur provinces. There, the fighting continues and is
presently entering its fifth year. This conflict is believed to have taken on an
ethnic tone which pits Arabs against Africans – and is the foundation from which
many international observers have declared that a genocide is being committed
against the Africans. The violence in Darfur is very complex and a superficial
analysis would only trivialize it. Suffice it to say that since 2003, estimates put
the death toll at 200,000, with another 3 million who have fled their homes and
become either IDPs or refugees in neighboring Chad, Uganda and the Central
African Republic. Residents are subject to attacks by the Janjaweed, or Arab
militia on camel back, widely believed to be supplied and supported by the
Khartoum government. Both the rebels and the government have been
implicated in attacks and have propagated the violence, but the government of
Sudan has consistently rejected international humanitarian intervention by the
United Nations on sovereignty grounds.
In fact, this issue of sovereignty and the violence in Darfur was the subject of
my senior thesis at Boston College – and has recently taken on an entirely new
dimension as I have heard first-hand accounts of what has happened in Darfur.
One year ago, sitting in the library researching this subject, I never would have
imagined that today I would be sitting in Sudan asking young men from Darfur
what has happened to them over the past four years. Never could I have
imagined, either, this globalized society in which we live - one that proclaims the
dignity and rights of every person – permitting such atrocities from occurring,
going virtually unnoticed.
Several boys have told me how, when fleeing their village from attacks, they
were separated from their parents and have not seen them since, unsure if they
are alive or dead. Another explained how he was wrongly accused of being a
rebel solider, imprisoned for three days, tied up, beaten and tortured in an
attempt to extract a confession. Almost everyone has had to flee their homes
after the Janjaweed came to their villages, stole all their possessions and
livestock, burned down their houses, killed their relatives and chased them to
the nearest IDP camp. Many have scars from being grazed by bullets or hit by
shrapnel from bombs. Everyone tells me life was good before; they were self-
sufficient and happy. Now they live in fear, hiding the emotional and physical
scars that come from living in a war-zone.
The bearers of these stories, young men from Nyala, South Darfur, are
educated in the technical school where I currently reside. The idea behind the
Darfur program is that it, if only for a year, removes them from what its director,
Fr. Vincent Donati (an eighty year old Italian missionary dedicated to the
service of humanity and love) refers to as the prisons of the IDP camps. It
provides them with security and the opportunity to gain a technical skill, which
increases their chances of one day finding sustainable employment. It is a
program which combines both immediate relief and long-term development.
My time here has made me reflect about a number of aspects of life: Given what
happened in Rwanda in 1994, why hasn't the international community taken the
steps necessary to stop what has been happening in Darfur for over four
years? What is the actual role of international NGOs and why hasn't more
progress been made on the African continent if so much money and manpower
is being devoted to development work? What are we, as individual US citizens,
obligated to do in the face of such violence and poverty – both international
poverty and the domestic poverty that Hurricane Katrina brought to the
forefront?
What I do know is that Sudan will be my home for the next four months. I teach
one English class a day to the young men from Darfur and Nuba Mountains.
The rest of the day I spend coordinating the administration of the three
boarding houses – paying the bills, purchasing food, making sure sick students
are taken to the hospital, taking care of the needs of the young men. One
might say I am a pseudo-accountant and general problem solver. Together,
Frank and I are also writing grants and pursuing other fundraising efforts to
secure the monies necessary for the continuation, and possible expansion, of
the Darfur program into next year. Unfortunately, the violence in Darfur shows
no signs of stopping and thus the need for the program continues.
That is where the Banana Fund takes on its modified mission. Because of the
generosity shown during the initial campaign, and because of the great needs
Frank and I continue to witness in both Rwanda and Sudan, we have expanded
its purpose to support the works of the Salesians in both places. Since its
founding, we have been able to supplement the diets of the children in Kigali for
one year, purchase English books for classes in El Obeid and build a
playground for children in Khartoum.
In the future, and with continued support, we would like to be able to provide
solar panels for hot water to the orphans in Rwanda. Additionally, we would like
to bring as many young men from Darfur to the technical school next year (the
cost for boarding and educating one boy for one year is about $1,000). Most
probably, we will find many other needs, but we will do what we can with what we
have. Donations to the Banana Fund can be made online donating through
PayPal and enter Banana Fund in the “Message to Seller” or by sending a
check made out to VIDES with "Banana Fund" in the subject line to: Sister
MaryGloria Mar, 5630 W. Commerce Street, San Antonio, TX 78237 USA.
VIDES USA is a 501 (c) (3) public organization where donations can be tax
deductible.
I am very much looking forward to the remainder of this experience and I am far
less nervous and unsure than I was five months ago. I try to be as present as
possible, yet remain excited about returning to the US. I have a newfound
appreciation for the rights and liberties afforded to us as US citizens, ones that
ensure our security and progress. I have also come to realize how much my
friends and family are blessings in my life. I am inspired by this all – and now
also by the people of Rwanda and Sudan.
Matt Putorti with some of his English students.
Frank So teaches children a fun trick.
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"Experiencing, Sharing Life in Christ"
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